Alternate Hero Lore
by OmegaSwirl
Summary: These are merely short stories based on offbeat hero interactions and lore aside from the main canon of the Dota universe.


Brewmaster's Struggle

Mangix was peacefully chugging his delightful brew from his barrel, gazing at the sky above. While contemplating his breakthrough of a thought that will allow him to someday merge the physical and spiritual planes together to form one complete realm, he began to feel lightheaded. He staggered off after the initial goal crept away from his mind, and he stood under his Buddha tree once again, taking another swig.

Then one day a two-headed giant strolls up to Mangix from the road and claims he is the Prometheus of the Highlands, that he escaped from the gods admirably with a special gift in hand: a blazing orb of celestial fire. The Brewmaster rubbed his eyes clear to gaze at the glowing object much like he did at the sky, and checked to see if he was indeed drunk. Alas, the orb proved true of its existence and the ogre, like many clever kin of their generation, blasted him with it, singing his hair and stunning him for a few good seconds. Calling upon the inner strength of the Oyo, he gathered his bearings and struck the ogre in the temple with his staff. The giant, blue and now ever more blue beast stumbled about in a stupor comparable to that of the Order's festival revelers, and fell to the earth, defeated as was the elder master. Underestimating and thinking one could outsmart the Brewmaster was a mistake many a foe was poor to make.

And then Mangix, born of mother's blood, sat and scratched his ear, and had a thought: a stray idea that would soon make his concept of calling upon ancestral spirits to aid him incomprehensible. Coaxing the orb, he used the fire to unite his elemental spirit with physical embodiment, thus proving to assure it's presence.

Doom's Sufferance

From the infernal, raging fire that was Doom's paradise, deep beneath the material plane did he wander, like the damned, endlessly and insufferably was his torment. His power and force driven incarnate, what can't and won't be killed was he himself. Driven by the resentment of his former God and insatiable lust of power, his mind grew weary of pondering the thought of overthrowing the limitless insight of the angels and their leader. Dooming the most unlucky of fate was his only and most pleasing goal, as was acquiring his revenge on the ones of light.

Storm Spirit's Storm

"Storm's coming in!" said Rajin as he zipped through the mountainside, as carefree of his crackling aura and boisterous as ever, felling trees and scorching poor cliff dwellers and shopkeepers in their shabby homelets. Offering third-degree burns and lightning charges, Thunderkeg was a foe many slow and indubious enemies were ill-fated to fight. Until the last breath or spark of life in him, the spirit of the storm would zap his enemies where they stood. Facing the god of thunder was a challenge Rajin was not ready to face, even if he wielded his own power. Supercharged as electric conductors, he gathered up his energy and bursted straight for the sky, as quick as a lightning bolt, and met the storm in its full wake. At the center of the tempest was no other than Zeus himself, King of the Gods, of mortals, and...well, everything else. Nevertheless, since both were grasping the same element, they dueled, seeing who could handle it best. Rajin being a celestial combined with a human with the the ability of becoming true electricity and dodging whatever was thrown at him, whether it be from a god or human, certainly came in handy. Rajin zipped and Zeus zapped, and they returned bolts one after one. Finally the storm spirit disabled Zeus in a powerful vortex of electric force and killed him with a single remnant, one loaded with the same spirit as Rajin.

The Ghost of Barathrum

The Spirit Breaker was at war once again, this time with himself. Between the planes did he roam, and run for cover of images of spirits that he once broke. He reared for a deathly charge, and down they fell, one by one, the outcasts of his dimension. They vexed him. Were they his enemies, or friends? Then one came close to him, and touched his cold, rough forehead. The scar leading down his face into his eye seemed ever more prominent, and his hair was a darker blue and straight. He looked up and noticed a dark figure only outlined in trails of intelligent, crystalline pulses. His voice carried reverberations through the world of matter, and his words were of command and authority. He sent Barathrum through the void and running toward a world dissimilar to his own.

In a way, Barathrum found it easy to bash those of lesser being. He saw memories in his monochrome eyesight - his gray eyebrows flecked with snow from the outer world, the slowly dying glint of the eclipsed sun, still silver in contrast but cold compared to the one from the elemental realm. In other words, his homeland.

The vibrant, green world that he found himself present in was not of his liking, or temperature for that matter. He snorted and attempted to turn back, but the portal had closed and there was nowhere to transcend. He let out a chilling roar and reared for a charge across a mountain range, passing over the rough terrain unhindered, scattering leaves and grass about as the mighty ox made his way across the land - to whatever combat he may face.


End file.
